The Fall of Vrael, or Ruination
by J8054
Summary: Before the time of Eragon Shadelslayer, Doru Areaba stood in it's final pride on Vroengard Island. Vrael, lord of the Riders, grows suspicious as a new evil emerges, results of a traitorous rider's murderous streak. A strange amulet turns up, only making things worse. Vrael fears Vroengard is on the way to it's fall. Only one man can change things. Galbatorix.
1. Prolougue: The Seeds of Madness

Prolougue

It is almost one hundred and fifty years before the birth of Eragon Shadeslayer, a young farm boy who found a dragon egg and became both the Last Rider and the First. To summarize what happened in his adventures, Eragon finds a dragon egg, meets up with the town elder, Brom, who turns out to be a dragon rider himself, goes on many adventures, learns what it really means to be a dragon rider, so on and so forth.

Vrael, lord of the Riders of Doru Areaba, the original home of the Dragon Riders, is torn with worry. Something is stirring. Something he did not think could possibly happen.

Vrael, and his white Dragon Umaroth, are the Lords of Doru Areaba. They see all, know all, and feel all. But not all is as it seems. An initiate Vrael long wondered about has finally shown his talent: his voice. Vrael noticed but did not act, not even when the student began to seduce others into serving him and his twisted plots.

In the bloated pride of his youth, this initiate took two of his most loyal friends into Urgal territory, confident that the foul monsters of the Hadarac Desert would not threaten them. He was wrong. The initiate's friends were slain, and his dragon was also. When his dragon was killed, it left such a stain on his mind, that on that day the seeds of madness were planted in the fertile soil of the initaite's brain. He butchered the Urgals like common livestock.

The initiate wandered the wastes for weeks, seeking refuge and shelter but finding none. Eventually, a young farmer found the initiate passed out in his fields. The young rider stood before the High Council, with Vrael presiding. The initiate begged of them another dragon, but to Vrael's agreement the council denied him one, and that day the seeds sprouted and the mask was torn. The young rider was furious with them, and took his maddened anger out upon them that night, sneaking into the deciding council rider's home and murdering him with the initiate's own hands. Vrael and the others arrived in time to exchange swords, ,but it was already too late for the elder, a rider named Adorhol. The initiate fled into the night, with the blood of the elder he had murdered on his hand. As Vrael prepared a search force, he remembered the name of the initiate: Galbatorix.


	2. Chapter One: Urgals Abroad

Vrael paused, his sword in hand. He slowly looked around, searching for the source of the brutish howl he had heard only seconds ago. _It could be Urgals_, queried Umaroth, Vrael's white dragon. _Although I have no idea how or why they would come to the Palancar Valley._

"I don't think so. Urgals haven't been seen in the Palancar Valley since after Palancar himself was slain," replied Vrael. "I would hazard a guess at wolves, or maybe some type of wild bear."

_Bears and wolves do not howl at a depth like that_, Umaroth stated. _It had to have been Urgals_. Umaroth raised his head slightly, sniffing. _I smell and sense nothing, at least nothing discernable from the wildlife_, Umaroth said. Suddenly, another of the deep, throaty howls came booming out from the east.

"Definitely Urgals," Vrael muttered. He sheathed his sword, climbed up onto Umaroth's back, and told the dragon "Fly towards the location of those calls as fast as you possible can!". Within seconds they were up almost a hundred feet, and soaring over the woody expanse of the Palancar Valley.

_I still don't think that was Urgals_, said Umaroth as his great wings beat the sky.

"It doesn't matter, it could be Galbatorix for all I care, we're going to find out what it is," replied Vrael. "I won't have people thinking I'm a Dragon Rider leader who's afraid of a couple of howls."

_Now you're being overconfident. Just do this as you do all of your other missions, and don't worry about what the rest of the world thinks_, chastised Umaroth.

Vrael muttered something about impertinent dragons, which made Umaroth snort. _Even if people think you're a cowardly leader, they'll always appreciate your sense of humor_.

"All the humans would respect me for is being a fool, if you had your way."

_And I would burn those who said so into a thousand ashes_, replied Umaroth. He blew a short spurt of fire, which blew back onto Vrael and set his hair on fire.

"Eitha brisingr!,"cried Vrael. The fire extinguished, leaving his hair undamaged. "Could you please not do that?," he yelled in annoyance.

Umaroth was laughing so hard that he couldn't even thought-speak. After about a minute, he replied, _you always make yourself look like a fool when you do that. It doesn't matter that you are the oldest elf rider, you act like the child you once were. It reminds me of the days of Ellesmera, before the world was changed and the humans arrived._

"I remember the time well. The world has changed us, for better or worse, Umaroth." said Vrael in a melancholy tone. He felt around in the saddlebags for a small rock that he had found in his childhood, when Umaroth was but a hatchling. Suddenly, Vrael sensed alarm in Umaroth's mind.

_Look, Vrael-elda. Smoke!,_ Umaroth said.

"Land near it. If it is Urgals, we should take them by surprise," replied Vrael. The Rider drew his gleaming white sword, Islingr, and leaned forward slightly as Umaroth touched down. Slipping off Umaroth's back, Vrael crept forward, checking his surroundings with magic. Whatever was up ahead had some kind of ward that prevented its owner's notice from other magic users. Invoking the ancient language, Vrael whispered, "skolir Shur'tugal e skulblaka Umaroth."

_Why shield us when our wards can do far better?, _asked Umaroth.

"Because we have no idea who or what is up ahead, and I'd rather not find out the hard way.", replied Vrael. He crept forward and uttered a new spell, "finna du haina achr." The spell directed him to four Urgals up ahead. _Three, two, one, go!_, cried Umaroth. Vrael sprang out of the shadows, his sword drawn. The Urgal nearest to Vrael had precisely a second to wonder at who his attacker was, before his head was removed from his shoulders.

The other three Urgals utter deep war cries and drew their weapons, two swords and an axe. One of the sword Urgals slashed at Vrael. With lightning speed, Vrael flipped his sword up, blocked the blow, and spun his blade under the Urgal's guard to puncture his stomach. As the axe Urgal approached, the other sword Urgal slipped behind Vrael. Without even bothering to turn around, Vrael focused his power on the Urgal and cried, "Thrysta!". The Urgal was thrown thirty feet back, straight into Umaroth's waiting claws. As Vrael raised his sword to parry the axe of the remaining Urgal, he noted the sound of ripping flesh and the occasional Urgal scream of pain. He slashed at the Urgal's neck and was surprised when the Urgal blocked the blow.

"Dauth eom haina achr!", yelled Vrael. Instantly, the Urgal crumpled to ashes. Panting, Vrael wiped the Urgal blood off Islingr, sheathed it, and sat down on one of the camp stools the Urgals had been occupying moments earlier. "That was…not what I was expecting," panted Vrael. "I really need...to get out more.".

_I, on the other hand, enjoyed tearing that foul Urgal to pieces, _quipped Umaroth. The dragon flapped his wings restlessly, then settled back down into a relaxing position. _I am glad that we rid the Palancar Valley of this foul menace. But I still do not understand; why were they here?_

"We could look through their bags, and see if there is anything to justify our suspicions," replied Vrael. "I have a couple inferences, one of which is that they are with Galbatorix the rogue. If so, it would explain why they had wards of hiding upon them." He picked through the bags two of the Urgals had carried as he spoke finding only rotten meat, some small trinkets, and a dagger with what seemed to be a human baby's arm bone as a hilt.

_It could be that if it was Galbatorix, he placed wards on these Urgals that dissipated when the aforesaid died. Or possibly Galbatorix taught one of them limited knowledge of the ancient language,_ wondered Umaroth. _It's unlikely, but possible._

"No, I think that my hunch is correct. Galbatorix would not waste time turning battle-hardened Urgals into spellcasters. I think it could have been...aha!", Vrael cried, lifting carefully a small, easily concealed amulet, shaped like a red skull with emeralds for eyes. "This is how. Galbatorix put wards on this amulet that fizzled out when the Urgals died. I have no doubt that Galbatorix is using Urgals, for better or worse."

_At least he isn't using shades, or other foul, evil, things like the Nidwhal,_ murmured Umaroth. The dragon raised his head slightly. _I would hate to have to disembowel the shade, like the last time._

"Umaroth, this is no time for jokes. We need to get back to Vroengard and alert the council of this. They will hopefully begin a full armament," Vrael chided. "Quickly, we must return to Vroengard." Vrael stood up, stretched, and climbed onto Umaroth's back.

_You are sure that this is Galbatorix's doing?, _asked Umaroth.

"Yes, I'm sure. I sensed his stench all over that amulet.", replied Vrael. Umaroth's great white wings rose like a sheet, and the rider and his dragon flew off towards Vroengard Island, home of the Dragon Riders.


	3. Chapter Two: A Sleepless Menace

As Vrael left Umaroth's cave, he paused for a second, just to take in the glory of the island. Sunlight shone off the majestic halls of Doru Araeba. The occasional dragon flew overhead, and riders in many different types of armor and tunics walked by, with the occasional greeting. Vrael shook himself from his stupor, and strode forward along the marble paved road. As he passed, rider after rider greeted him, both in normal speech and in the ancient language. Vrael nodded in return and kept walking, heading for the massive hall in the center of the gigantic citadel. It was literally big enough to encompass a small town, and high enough to be seen over the mountains that encircled the fabled citadel. The windows shimmered like diamonds and emeralds, with beautifully carved images of dragons, elves, and humans. It seemed majestic enough to belong in paradise.

"Vrael!", cried a rider wearing black armor with intricate silver weldings and decorum. "How was your journey?".

Vrael replied, "Hello, Amorund. As for the journey, it turned out that the pillagers were Urgals."

"Urgals?", questioned Amorund. "But the last we saw of them -".

"I know", interrupted Vrael. He motioned to Amorund to walk with him, and the two moved towards the massive hall. "It seems they have been under Galbatorix's influence. I found this on one of them." He unwrapped the amulet from the Urgal camp. Amorund's eyes widened.

"A blödh hjarta amulet?", yelped Amorund. "Galbatorix is out of his mind! Only shades would dare use such a cursed stone!".

"Well, I thought as much. I am headed up to the council. I've decided to issue a full armament of the riders. We will all ride out and search for Galbatorix.", stated Vrael. "I will see you there." He then turned abruptly and entered the great hall, leaving a flabbergasted Amorund behind.

Vrael quickly jogged up the grand, jewel bedecked stairs, up until he reached a blank wall. Vrael muttered a quick spell in the ancient language, and the wall turned to water and dissipated. As soon as Vrael had passed through where the wall was, it returned to existence as though it had never disappeared. Vrael took in the sight that lay behind the wall.

Facing towards a large, arcing window were nine graceful, curved chairs. One, the centermost, was empty. The centermost chair was the grandest by far, with gold and iron intricately wrought with marble, making a beautifully crafted curve. The others were welded with silver and bronze, along with any color from brown to vibrant blue to blood red. But more curious than the chairs were the occupants. In the four chairs to the left of the centermost were the four most prominent elves in the riders, and to the right were the four most skilled humans. Amorund sat on a midnight black throne, with silver details. His armor made him almost invisible, but for his tanned face and vibrant green eyes. Sitting to Vrael's immediate left was an elf by the name of Shelditar, a she-elf and oppressive warrior with tight, interlocked purple armor embroidered with golden swirls. Next to her was Ingrimm, Vrael's most skilled spellcaster and newest council member. His predecessor, Nordis, had been killed when Urgals attacked settlements in the Palancar Valley. Nordis had been shot in the leg by a poisoned arrow, and died two days later. Next to him sat the other two council elves, Nidham and Corcelil. On the human side, besides Amorund, sat Galooth, the best swordsman, Falevor the mage smith, and Rhuidon, the only rider ever to have been to Farthen Dur, home of the dwarves of Alagaesia.

Vrael slowly sat down in his extravagant throne, and greeted all the council members, who returned his greeting with slight nonchalance. "Umaroth and I have found Urgals in the Palancar Valley."

"What! Where?" demanded Ingrimm.

Vrael sighed inwardly. Ingrimm could be so impatient sometimes, especially in a crisis. It was this that made him the best spellcaster, and it was also his fatal flaw, Vrael thought to himself. He said aloud, "Ingrimm, it doesn't matter. What's important is that when I was finished demolishing them, I found something of great importance." At the word demolishing, he thought he saw Shelditar's lips curve up slightly.

"It was a blödh hjarta amulet", Amorund interjected. "Vrael believes, as I do, that it was created by Galbatorix."

"If it was, then he would not have let us know so easily unless it was a trap, and he wants a full armament", Ingrimm replied. "Only I could have possibly discerned the ownership of such a foul and ancient relic."

Vrael slid to the edge of his seat, and Falevor's brow furrowed. Shelditar stood up. "I know that Vrael's skills are far beyond your own, Ingrimm. Overconfidence has led to the fall of many, including Nordis. He believed he could take on a full battalion of Urgals by himself. Your overconfidence is your weakness."

"Your pride is your, she-elf!", cried Galooth. "At least I have some skill to speak of! What can you do but support Vrael? He was the only one who ever supported you becoming a council member! If I had my way, you would be living in the slums of Uru'baen, not lording over others to which you have no right!"

The entire council exploded. Vrael was yelling for silence, Shedlitar and Galooth were being held back by members of their kin, who were yelling also, and Amorund and Ingrimm argued about who knows what.

Vrael gathered his courage, then cried out in the ancient language, and everyone froze. "What did you say?", inquired Shelditar.

"Duath neman du votrali exterra.", Vrael replied. "The gaze of the enemy is upon us." Vrael sat back down in his chair, and the rest of the council did likewise.

Falevor gazed at Vrael for a moment. "Give the amulet to me.", he ordered. Vrael complied without question. The last rider to question Falevor's demands had been in the infirmary for two solid years. Falevor studied the object. "It appears to have been made from Numoritan Iron, doused in blood.", he stated. "It seems that the blood was also enhanced in some way, but I cannot tell. There are so many spells hidden in this metal that it is like trying to untangle a knot of immense proportion."

Ingrimm motioned for the amulet, and Falevor levitated it across the room with a flick of his finger. Ingrimm placed his hand on the amulet, and the whole room grew silent with tension. Ingrimm's face began to grow pale. Beads of sweat grew on his forehead. The amulet began to glow. Finally, Ingrimm flung the amulet across the room. Just before it hit the ground, Shelditar muttered, "theohiem", and the amulet froze two inches above the ground. Then, it slowly fell to the ground. Vrael looked worriedly at Ingrimm. The elf wasn't moving, or breathing. His face was still pale, and his hands were blistered. Vrael stood up. "Until Ingrimm is revived, or he dies, this council is adjourned." With that, Vrael stormed out of the room, unaware of the consequences of what he had just said.


	4. Chapter Three: At The Advice of Oromis

Vrael strode down the marble staircases of the Great Hall of Doru Areaba. After the fiasco with the amulet and Ingrimm, there was only one place he could go to regain his shattered calm. Vrael stood in the central entrance hall, taking in the evening light coming in through the stained glass windows, which depicted deeds of riders and dragons long dead. The most ornate one was situated above the great oaken doors, and engraved in its shiny glass was the first ever meeting of rider and dragon: the fabled Eragon, and the nameless dragon. He muttered, "Oh ancestors, save us from the coming storm. Shield us from the fires of evil. Defend us from those who wish us harm."

Vrael paused, but all he could hear was the stony silence of the ancient hall. He turned abruptly and strode down a passageway behind an elder obsidian pillar. As his feet clacked on the old diorite floor, Vrael thought of who might have traveled this path before him. After several minutes of walking through the ancient, dusty corridor, Vrael arrived at the place he was looking for: a spacious room with a single tome upon a marble slab in the center. A thin ray of sunlight shone upon the tome, while the sandstone walls of the room darkened and seemed to be of obsidian. Vrael gently opened the tome, and looked through the worn, dusty pages. They were covered in ancient script and beautiful paintings, mainly of the war of the elves and dragons. Vrael vowed silently in that hallowed place that he would never allow Galbatorix to stain Doru Areaba with it's own blood. Suddenly, he heard the gong of Vroengard, which signaled to the apprentice riders that classes were done.

As Vrael walked into the main hall, students flooded the doors like a raging river released from it's bonds, trying to return to their dorms in anticipation of the excitement and relaxation that the weekend break entailed. Vrael waited calmly until most of the students passed; those that remained were the few who were academically inclined to speak to their instructors for one reason or another. Vrael watched for a time more, reliving his time as a student, then strode out of the hall, through an ornate archway, and onto a gravel path that led down to the combat training cave, a huge cavern dug into the side of the mountains surrounding Doru Areaba. Vrael paused for a moment at the large gate, then swung it open and purposefully strode down the narrow path. Every few feet, a small red lantern lit the otherwise deeping gloom.

Suddenly, he heard Umaroth's voice in his mind. _Vrael_, the white dragon questioned, _did you... ah...let any new...baby dragons into the dens? _Vrael paused on the steps. _No_, he replied, _but I've heard a lot of the female dragons became mothers this spring. _Vrael continued down the steps, waiting for Umaroth's reply, but it was several minutes before he received an answer. _There's a little blue cub who has apparently taken an attraction to me_, said Umaroth resignedly. _Well, just stick with it, and try to be nice to it, I need to seek Oromis-elda's advice and then we can work with this cub_, replied Vrael. He then strode down the last of the steps, and stopped, staring at the arena.

Oromis had really changed things. Woven collumns of stone held up the ceiling, carved like trees in a spring flower. The roof was painted like stars, with a moon and sun to match it. a thin path held up by nothing but magic entwined through the trees, the only way to get down. The huge central octagonal chamber had been completely redone. Vrael strode down the path, noticing the many smaller rooms that Oromis had tunneled into the walls. Archery targets, halberd dummies, and practically anything else you could possibly need to refine your combat skills. Vrael noticed that some of the rooms were not even remotely on the path; doorways just carved into the rock with no possible way to get to it. Vrael tried to jump towards one, misjudged badly, and landed on what felt like the path he had just been walking up. Vrael didn't believe it. Oromis had really outdone himself. The path could sense your thoughts, and tell where you wanted to go; it would move with you, not let you move on it. After experimenting with the path, Vrael walked up to the highest room, blocked by a gilded door with hinges and ornate decorations of steel. Vrael knocked, and a smooth voice replied, "Come in."


End file.
